


Dancing With a Ghost

by Independence1776



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-16
Updated: 2011-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-10 03:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Independence1776/pseuds/Independence1776
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor takes Amy to an art fair on Arcadia after the events in “Cold Blood.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing With a Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [](http://recycledcans.livejournal.com/profile)[**recycledcans**](http://recycledcans.livejournal.com/) for her winning bid in my [](http://help-japan.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://help-japan.livejournal.com/)**help_japan** auction. Her prompt was to use Valencia’s “Dancing With a Ghost” to explore Amy’s feelings after Rory’s death in “Cold Blood.” I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Many, many thanks to [](http://ladyelleth.livejournal.com/profile)[**ladyelleth**](http://ladyelleth.livejournal.com/) for the beta. Without her, this story wouldn’t be nearly as good. Also, thanks go to [](http://spiced-wine.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://spiced-wine.livejournal.com/)**spiced_wine** for the Britpick.

The Doctor wandered into the library, running a hand on the wooden bookshelf as he walked. Amy was here somewhere, and likely in her usual red plaid chair, next to a large end table and underneath a false window (though he’d found her in several other spots-- on one memorable occasion, tangled up naked with Rory on a couch in one of the deeper alcoves lining the left wall of the huge, multistory room). On the opposite side of the end table was Rory’s favorite chair.

When he spotted her, he stumbled and caught himself on the edge of the nearest bookcase.

Amy was sitting in _Rory’s_ chair, and looking rather annoyed at him for interrupting her reading. She closed the book, finger holding her place in it. “What is it this time?”

“I just thought you’d like to see one of the greatest art fairs in this arm of the galaxy.”

She glanced down at her book and then tossed it onto the table. “I can always read about Deleian sketchers later. This had better be as good as you say it is, Raggedy Man.”

Amy stood up and sauntered down the aisle. She looked over her shoulder. “If you’d rather read--”

The Doctor hurried to catch up with her. “No, no! I was just wondering why you chose that chair.”

A confused expression crossed Amy’s face. “It felt safe.” She nudged him. “And it’s comfortable. Do I _have_ to do everything the same all the time?”

“Definitely not.”

They clambered down the stairs to the console room. Amy leaned against the railing as he set the coordinates. “So where’s this art fair?”

“Arcadia, just over two decades after their first contact. It’s a beautiful planet.”

“And?”

“And this art fair is famous for centuries. It’s full of hope, and joy, and light. They’ve got the universe to discover now.”

She laughed. “There won’t be any monsters, will there?”

The Doctor shook his head. “I promise. It’ll be a peaceful day. I want you to enjoy this. Just avoid anything made with yahze. Humans are mildly allergic.”

They left the TARDIS together. He’d tucked her away in an alley, partly because of the Arcadian’s beliefs and partly to avoid attracting attention (his ship really shouldn’t be seen at this point in Arcadian history). After what happened here in two thousand years… He shook his head, shoving the thoughts of the War to the back of his mind. He was here to show Amy _art_.

Amy stared at the riot of colors on the circular, domed buildings surrounding them as they came out of the curved alley. “Arcadians really love color, don’t they?”

He grinned. “This is just their architecture. Their artwork is even more impressive.”

They joined the crowd-- mostly consisting of purple-haired, bipedal Arcadians-- heading to and away from the massive park in the middle of the city, split in half by the river bisecting the capital. It was a glorious day, midsummer less than a week away. The sun shone on the blue and green trees, glinted off the water, highlighted the purple flowers planted in waving patterns alongside the pavement. The city was just as noisy as a typical major city on Earth-- horns, shouts, feet tramping, people talking.

Amy spun after stopping at a street crossing to wait for the light. “This is fantastic! What’s yahze?”

He blinked. “A beast of burden and a meat source. Their fur makes a yarn.”

“Right.” The light changed and she pulled him across the road into the park. “Now, where should we start?”

“We?”

“You brought me here, you can explain what I’m seeing. Maybe I could pick up a technique or two.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve sculpting me.”

She punched him on the arm. “Doctor! I only made those dolls so I would have something to play with when no one would play with me.”

He pulled her into a one-armed hug. “I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that. Why?” He shook his head, unable and unwilling to explain.

“You came back. And I’m here now, on another planet. So--”

“Let’s explore?”

She darted for the nearest stall, looking at the colorful necklaces, pendants, and trinkets made out of resin. He stood back and let her talk to the proprietor, while he fought down a wave of grief. With Rory gone, she had no one to play with. Growing up would have been even lonelier. And yet, there was still the core of resilience that made up Amelia Pond. She still remembered Rory, in the back of her mind. Why else would she have acted as if there was someone standing to the right of her, someone whose opinion she trusted and relied upon?

But Amy apparently thought nothing of her aborted turn to the right and behaved as if nothing had happened. Was this how it would be for the rest of her life, always looking for someone who wasn’t there? She ended up buying a small green and gold bird on a chain. But she didn’t put it on, and gave him the small package to put in one of his pockets.

They wandered from booth to booth, examining everything from still-lifes to portraits to inlaid wood to sculptures ranging from abstract to lifelike in a variety of materials. He showed her what yahze yarn looked like, and he left her at a booth selling knit scarves so the Doctor could get them food. After she bought (another) red scarf, they settled down on a bench near the water, away from the bustling crowd, and leisurely ate their meals, hers a chicken-equivalent pasta dish and his a spicy vegetarian platter (thankfully with no beans). After they were done, the Doctor leaned forward. “Is something wrong?”

Amy glanced at him, startled. “No, why?” She gestured with her free hand at the water, the trees, and the buildings beyond. “This is amazing. It’s beautiful, and I wish I could show it to someone. It makes me sad.”

“Well, I’m here.”

She laughed. “But you’re an alien. It would be nice to have another human along with us.”

The Doctor looked over at the river. Quietly, he said, “Yes, it would.”

“Speaking of something alien, how come there aren’t any straight lines here? I saw them depicted in some artwork…”

The Doctor sighed. She _would_ notice the one topic he’d hoped to avoid. “The Arcadians believe the dead travel on them, so they’re only in burial grounds.”

“Is _that_ why you hid the TARDIS away? And is that why all the Arcadians move as if they’re dancing?” He nodded. “So why didn’t they scold us for being rude?”

“Because we’re off-worlders. We aren’t expected to follow their customs.” The Doctor studied Amy’s pensive body language. He didn’t add: and they can see we’re mourning someone. Rory would have loved exploring this place with Amelia, simply because her joy at discovering new things was contagious. He leaned over. “Hey, why are you crying?”

Amy shrugged, smiling gamely through the tears tracing down her face. “I don’t know. Maybe just being the only human here and the burial grounds-- it got all mixed up in my head.” She stared at the plastic container her food had come in. “Can we go?”

“Back to the TARDIS or to the fair?”

“The fair of course, silly.”

But this time, after they tossed their rubbish in a nearby bin, she led them on a curving path through the crowd, forsaking the straight lines humans normally traveled by.


End file.
